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Well done, Deadgirl. Now I'm never gonna get a girlfriend because I watched you. But wait... this is a bad review... so surely that statement doesn't apply to me...
Oh, cock.
As a result of the characters' unholy arseholeyness, the best parts of the movie are the ones in which Deadgirl's various bastards get their comeuppances. Behold, much penis munching (and not the good kind), gore and violence. And a particularly funny scene in which the lads try and kidnap themselves a new victim (a lot funnier than it sounds).
Do excuse me. Deadgirl seems to have awakened my inner Germaine Greer. It's a competent, well-made movie that rightfully (I suppose) gained itself a fair bit of controversy last year. It's no game-changer, and it certainly isn't as good as the hype suggests. Who is the audience supposed to be for this, anyway? Judging by the sexy poster and the lingering shots of nuddy Deadgirl, its target audience is the one Deadgirl is supposed to be critiquing. It's a self-perpetuating cycle that will further damage the reputation of horror fans and probably lead to me being put on a register of some sort, simply for having ever rented this movie. Silly, silly, silly men and our inability to resist raping zombies.
Alumni from the Megan Fox school of acting show how it's done in Vacant Expressions of Vague Unease: The Movie.
Our killer’s vendetta starts in the 80s’. It’s the Valentines’ Day dance, and poor schmuck Jeremy just can’t seem to get a date. Rejected by all the hot girls in his school, he has little option but to make out with the class fatty. To add insult to injury, fatty claims that Jeremy assaulted her, and has him beaten up. As motives go, Jeremy’s is pretty pathetic, but hey, guys tend not to forget that sort of thing. Years later: a loon in a Cupid mask is stalking the girls, murdering them up one-by-one. But surely the movie wouldn’t be so dumb as to have the most obvious candidate end up being the killer…. Right?
Oh.
If you like bloodless Scream rip-offs, you might just be able to tolerate Valentine. At least it’s forgettable enough to not really matter in the long term. Valentine is the equivalent of the sympathy Valentines’ card that your mother or your fucking cat sends every year. And all this seasonal-movie nonsense just raises a much bigger, far more important question: where the fuck is my Pancake Day horror movie?!?